IT'S A MANZ WORLD

AFTERNOON NAP - Note: Most of my Manz World stories are fictionalized accounts of how the painting shown here came to be. However, some of the stories are rooted in truth.

A number of years ago, along with several friends, I visited a nudist camp for a long weekend. The camp is located in the Blue Mountains of Pennsylvania, one of the ridges of the Appalachian Mountain range, about 90 miles north of where we all lived. The purpose of our visit was to participate in a volleyball tournament as representatives of our local nudist camp. Actually, I wasn’t planning to play, but the other three guys were. Along with several other carloads of people from our camp, there were going to be more than enough players to fill out a team. Certainly enough people to support our team and, hopefully, cheer them on to victory.

My friend, Tom, drove his Subaru SUV with me in the passenger’s seat and the others—Nick and Geo—in the back. Fortunately, the Subaru had plenty of storage room in the back since not only was there camping equipment and some food for the weekend, but each of us brought some personal wearables in small bags. Yes, even at a nudist camp there is the need to wear clothes sometimes, especially if it gets cool at night, which it does in the mountains. However, the day of our travel was very hot, so we were really looking forward to taking off our clothing when we got to our destination. In the meantime, we appreciated that Tom’s car had good air-conditioning.

In checking the weather ahead of time, I saw that the heat was going to last for several more days. One weatherman said it was going to be “a real scorcher for the weekend.” That was not a good thing for the tournament participants since they would be playing on courts that were out in the open—not shaded—therefore, all the players would be exposed to the hot, blazing sun during most of the day. Hopefully, all players, even the spectators, brought their sunscreen.

Being older and not really a camper person, I had reserved one of the rooms at the small motel unit on the grounds of the resort. To call it a motel is giving it a lot of credit, since it was nothing like what you would see at most roadside motels. The building was rather old, and the rooms were tiny, just big enough for two twin-sized beds and a small bureau with three drawers. Fortunately, there was an air conditioner in the window, which allowed for a cool night’s sleep.

The building, especially inside, reminded me of a college dorm, since the bedrooms were lined up on both sides of a hallway with a bathroom located at the end of the hall. Having only that one bathroom meant sharing with others, both male and female. Inside there was a line of sinks—six in number—and then several toilet stalls with doors for privacy. However, there were no showers. Any showering was done in simple wooden cubicles lined up against one of the outside walls of the building. Those cubicles were open to the sky, each having a flimsy plastic shower curtain in the front to close for privacy. There were other toilet and shower facilities placed strategically around the camp: a large one at the tenting/travel trailer site and one in the recreational area, which was available to people who came for a day visit. One other shower was located next to the outdoor pool. It was to be used by everyone wanting to swim. As the nearby sign said: SHOWER BEFORE ENTERING POOL.

Our gang arrived just after noon. Since we had stopped to eat a late breakfast, none of us were hungry. Actually, we were saving our appetites for a buffet dinner that was to take place later that evening. Although the resort catered the affair, tickets were needed to take part. Having been to a previous buffet dinner there, I knew there would be plenty of good food available so that it was well worth the twenty-dollar admission price. Besides, I knew it was a fundraiser to help pay for some of the cost of hosting the tournament. For me, it was money well spent.

Upon our arrival, Tom dropped me off at the motel before he and the others headed to the campsite, where they would pitch a large tent for the weekend. After entering my room, it did not take me long to strip off my clothes and put the little I had packed in my duffle bag into one of the bureau drawers. Once that was done, I grabbed a towel and, totally naked except for the sandals on my feet, headed to the outdoor pool located near the center of the recreation area. Once there, I saw an inviting scene: a beautiful pool filled with cool water surrounded by a large patio. On one side of the pool were a number of lounge chairs, all lined up in two rows. Many were being used, but several were still empty. Seeing that one of the nearby lounge chairs was available, I quickly spread my towel on it and slipped off my sandals, a sign that the chair was taken. Then, barefooted, I walked to the small bar next to the pool and ordered a margarita. On the rocks. Since all drinks were served in plastic cups, I knew I could take it back to my chair where I began sipping the icy drink. On such a hot day, that drink was not just cool, it tasted heavenly.

Since there was nothing planned for the afternoon, I took my time, sipping slowly on my drink. However, once my cup was empty, I walked to the edge of the pool, dove in and enjoyed a nice long, refreshing swim. After that I lounged in the sun for a while. But only after spreading a thick layer of sunscreen on my body. Fortunately, I saw one of my friends from my home camp nearby, so I was able to have him smear some of the cream onto my backside. It was soon after that several other camp friends saw me and joined me in conversation. And another margarita. However, the three guys I came with were busy warming up their skills on one of the volleyball courts, playing against some of their other teammates.

As evening approached, we all gathered in the dining hall for the buffet which, again, was worth every dollar I had spent for the ticket. Later that night a welcoming ceremony was held, with each camp or resort represented introduced along with team members. By that time, all visitors to the camp—players and observers—numbered around three hundred. Seeing some of my friends from other camps in the crowed, I enjoyed some hugs as well as some ‘catch-up talk.’ My night finally ended up with a short swim in the lighted pool and then it was off to bed.

For the next three days—Friday through Sunday—the tournament was played with each team doing their best to win their games in order to move to the next level. As a spectator, it was a joy to see the talent that was shown on the courts. Some of the younger players had either been, or were at present, involved with volleyball at their schools, both high school and college. So the playing was super fast, and the hits were hard. Unfortunately, while our camp’s team did well, they missed the final four play off. So, with some of my friends alongside me, I watched the final games, which, again, were a sight to see. It was exciting to see such high level playing by a number of extremely talented players.

It was on Saturday during the break for lunch that my friend Geo came to me and asked if he could rest in my motel room. I saw that he was tired looking, even exhausted. He told me that he had had an asthma attack earlier, which was probably due to his playing in the hot, humid weather. He said that resting in an air-conditioned room for a bit would help get him ready to go out on the court again.

Seeing his need, I gave Geo the key to my room and told him to rest there for as long as he needed. After he left me, I joined several others for lunch at the ‘Snack Shack’ located near the indoor recreation hall. Knowing that Geo wanted to get back to his team to prepare for the afternoon game, I walked back to my motel room after lunch. I wanted to make sure he was awake. Since the door was already unlocked, I opened the door and immediately saw that Geo was sleeping. What I saw was a young man with a lean, athletic body stretched out on the unused bed. The view of him laying there made such an impression on me I decided to make a painting of it. The technique I used for the painting was a little different that my usual method, one used by a very famous American artist: Edward Hopper. I called the finished painting “Afternoon Nap.”